Of Love and Dying
by peachpaige
Summary: After the war, those who are left, are left to mourn. HGRW, RLNT, AWMW, GWHP
1. Hermione and Ron

Disclaimer: I'm just borrowing them.

Title: Of Love and Dying

Summary: After the war those who are left, are left to mourn. HG/RW, RL/NT, AW/MW, GW/HP (in that order)

A/N: This idea came to be rather suddenly. I wrote the last chapter first, but they really have no set order, and are all little glances into the lives of the survivors of the second war. They are all finished, so if you have **any questions** or are confused, feel free to **leave a comment** and **I'll answer them in an added on last chapter**. Happy reading and reviewing (wink wink).

Oh, and if you're like me and like to skip over quotes. **DON'T!** They're actually important to the stories.

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**For nothing is fixed, forever and forever and forever, it is not fixed; the earth is always shifting, the light is always changing, the sea does not cease to grind down rock. Generations do not cease to be born, and we are responsible to them because we are the only witnesses they have. The sea rises, the light fails, lovers cling to each other, and children cling to us. The moment we cease to hold each other, the sea engulfs us and the light goes out.**

-James Baldwin

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Of Love and Dying 

Chapter 1 – Hermione and Ron

Is this the world? I cannot picture how the next 50 years of my life will go. The past 10 have been difficult enough to comprehend without another half a century looming before me without seeing that vibrant hair. Tears stain my pillow every night, a stream I cannot stem nor have the energy too.

It is only when my son Edward, now nine years old, crawls into my bed late at night after having a nightmare and cuddles up to me, do I get any sleep. His auburn hair no where near the vibrant color of his father's, but so special in its own way.

I wrap my arms around his tiny body, smiling. He would never let his friends know about this secret habit that he's had since he could walk. I hold on to it for as long as possible because these days will be gone soon. I'll be alone here in London, with only the Ministry and my friends to keep me occupied during the day, and nothing to keep me strong at night.

I fall asleep after midnight with this small man in my arms, dreaming of how it would be with another adult-size body on the other side of us, and I don't bother to try to hold in the tears, it's just easier to get them over with. He only knew his son for a year, and this thought is what I cannot keep my mind from drifting to, it is this thought that causes my heart to feel as if it is being wrenched from my chest.

I wonder if it will take another 10 years before I am over this, or if I will cry myself to sleep for the rest of my life. Until my heart has healed, and I pray that it is healing, I will dream of red hair and freckles and the gift that I have in my arms.


	2. Remus and Nymphadora

Disclaimer: I'm just borrowing them.

Title: Of Love and Dying

Summary: After the war…those who are left, are left to mourn. HG/RW, RL/NT, AW/MW, GW/HP

A/N: Hope you like this next installment. It's longer and gives a little, tiny bit of fluff. Enjoy.

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**Youth is not a time of life, it is a state of mind. You are as old as your doubt, your fear, your despair. The way to keep young is to keep your faith young. Keep your self-confidence young. Keep your hope young.  
**- Luella F. Phean

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Of Love and Dying 

Chapter 2 – Remus and Nymphadora

Funerals kill me. Emotionally, that is.

It is ironic, yes. But I feel that my emotions do not have enough exercise, so when I am forced to stretch them, I fall painfully short on what to do. Do I cry? Do I stay silent? Is it not proper to stand stoic? I can't comprehend a loss in emotion until a funeral, and it is only because I look around and see the many…goers? Is that what they're called? Funeral-goers? Mourners? I only register the emotion until I see these people in all of their sadness.

My friends lost their savior in the final moments, and because of that they have lost their daughter and friend. I swallow hard, a sudden dryness to my throat. I cannot cough, it would be rude, but I feel as though my allergies are acting up. Yes, yes, it must be my allergies. I cannot cry here, the girl entering the ground would not wish it.

A hand slips in to mine and my skin jumps but the familiarity soothes me and look over at the young woman at my side. I smile, no longer caring what is proper at a funeral. Her bright blues stare up into my light brown eyes. Her hair is pink, and though it's a small detail, it is an obvious display that she shows no change in hope.

She has reason to hope for many things. Hope for me to come around, for I never gave her a solid answer, for the people attending this funeral to smile at some point once again, and the hope that everyone we have lost is safe…

It is over, suddenly, and I look away from her, wondering where the time went. I see many turning and heading toward the apparation point, to take them to the reception. Arthur and Molly Weasley are some of the last to leave, the remainder of her children, Hermione, Nymphadora, and I escorting them back.

We only stay an hour at the reception, with an apology to everyone.

"Oh, it's quite alright Remus, there's nothing more to be done." Molly says with a saddened smile. Guilt settles in my stomach.

"If you need me to stay-"

"No, no. Things are wrapping up here anyway. We'll see you tomorrow?" Arthur cuts in, knowing the way I feel.

"Definitely." Tonks confirms along with my nod. She hugs the Weasleys before grabbing my hand and walking with me out of the room.

We apparate once outside, ending up back at my flat. I glance around the dingy sitting room, slipping off my cloak out of habit and placing it on the coat hanger near the door. I look behind me once done to see that Tonks hasn't moved. I furrow my eyebrows, confused, and move towards her.

"Hey, what-" I stop suddenly, seeing her suddenly bring her hands up to her face, her shoulders sagging.

She's sobbing.

I open my mouth, though no words come out and I take another step forward, my arms slipping around her shoulders and bringing her to me. She fits perfectly just at my chest, where my arms meet my torso and this makes me smile, despite her sobs.

"Nymphadora," I start, her name flowing across my tongue easily, "what is it? What's wrong?"

When she doesn't answer me, I pull back and reach to her wrists, gently pulling them away from her face. She looks a mess, her make-up smeared and running with her tears. I see what she means when she says she hates it when she cries. She's described to me puffy eyes, red skin and mucus. I'm not disappointed in her description, though she is always lovely to me.

Her blue eyes peak through long eyelashes, covered in tears. Water streams in a steady flow from her eyes and a strangled sob wracks her body.

"Tell me, please." I plead with her, feeling more uncomfortable and desperate for her to be that hopeful girl again. She is my strength, and if she loses hers, I don't know what will become of me.

"I-I feel s-so g-guilty!" She wails and I can't help but smile at her. Why? Why must my emotions be so screwed up? But she is all the laughter I feel I have left and her beautiful crying has me smiling of all things.

"Why would you feel guilty, love?" I implore.

My hands slide down her wrists and up her arms to her shoulders, one sliding to her cheek, the pad of my thumb rubbing what tears I can away.

"Y-You're still alive a-and everyone else l-lost someone and…I-I still h-have you." One of her hands goes to her face and she tries, embarrassed, to wipe the tears from her eyes.

Understanding dawns on me and I sigh, standing straight and taking her in to my arms again. Using this position I move her to my bedroom.

"C'mon." I say, slipping her from my arms.

I think about what to say to her as I lift her black dress above her head. This seems to surprise her out of her tears and she hiccups, looking at me with something like a mix of shock and amusement.

"I'm getting you ready for bed, Nymphadora." I chastise her sternly, knowing what her mind was cooking up.

She smiles at me and I feel relief for a moment. I turn from her, reaching into my drawers to pull out an old long-sleeved undershirt. Putting my hands under it, I slip it over her head, and she helps by slipping her arms through the sleeves.

I smile down at her, "Rest, I think, is what you need."

I slip out of my own clothes, pulling on a pair of loose fitting breeches. When I come back to the bed she is already huddled down in the blankets and I smile, sliding in next to her. For some reason, she likes the right side of the bed, and as long as I'm next to her, I don't mind what side I get.

Without speaking, she slips into my arms and I oblige her wishes by wrapping them around her. "Don't feel that way." I say, finally addressing her concerns.

Her head, which had been resting on my shoulder, lifts to look at me. I lower my head to her and hesitate for a moment, my lips on hers before I kiss her fully. It is short and chaste, and I lean back to get a better look at her.

"We were lucky." I say, even sounding calculating and unemotional even to myself. I sigh and once more lower my head to hers, though I only rest my forehead against her. "I-I hate to believe that it's anything other than luck. If it's something else, like fate. Then it means…it means…"

"It means they were meant to die, and we weren't." She finishes for me, tears once more filling her eyes.

"I mean, we were- It wasn't as if-" I close my eyes tight and shake my head.

It's finally the time to be like this Remus, I tell myself and my eyes open. Hers are so close, and I wish that I could get lost in them and forget my own guilt that I've hidden in my brain. I feel something wet sting my eyes and suddenly she's looking worried about me.

"Remus-" She starts, but I shake my head, cutting her off.

"No. I have to say this." I pause for a moment, trying to stop my tears, though that is a wish not to be granted. I clear my throat. "I love you." I say clearly. "And I feel as if I lost you. No, if I lose you I'll…die. And I'm selfish. Luck is selfish."

I am the one sobbing now, and I feel like the biggest wanker in all of London.

But when her arms are suddenly around me, my worries fade away and I turn. Pressing her into the pillows, needing to feel her, and not just anything, I hover my lips against hers again.

She wriggles beneath me and I pull away from her lips to watch her.

"I love you too."

And with that all talking ends. She pulls me down to her.

Her hands weave up into my hair and my own slip down to her bare thighs, slipping underneath the long shirt she has on. All I can feel underneath my fingertips is warmth, and I slip the shirt off of her, only bringing her hands away from me for a moment before she slips them down my bare shoulders.

I gasp against her as her feet find the hem of my pants and slip them down my legs and finally off of me. I open my eyes, leaning back for a moment to take her in. This is my answer, and I suddenly smile at her. The overwhelming feeling that this is how I'll feel in 50 years hits me. I will want to love her this much forever.

I push all thoughts aside after another second, coming back to the present and to her.

Tonight it's not going to be gentle, I know. But it's not going to be rough, either. It's perfect.

(A/N: As always, authors love reviews, just to know people have been reading in general. Thanks!)


	3. Arthur and Molly

Disclaimer: I'm just borrowing them.

Title: Of Love and Dying

Summary: After the war, those who are left, are left to mourn. HG/RW, RL/NT, AW/MW, GW/HP

A/N: Thanks for reading!

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**Let us cross over the river and sit in the shade of the trees.  
**-Last words of General Thomas "Stonewall" Jackson, d. 1863

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Of Love and Dying 

Chapter 3 – Arthur and Molly

I have come to see that my life was never meant to be 'glamorous'. I never wanted the frilliness of wealth, nor the trouble. All I have ever wanted was to be surrounded by children and grandchildren, and to find someone that can tolerate me for as long as we live. A difficult task, I see now, but I accomplished it.

Molly is the perfect woman. Where I was too weak to discipline the children, she rose to the task like a fearless general. I both know it took more love than I had in me to chastise my children. Ha! Not that she loves them more than I do. I'm sure she wanted to be the good guy for once and make me be the bad, but she never told me it out loud.

We lost Charlie, Fred, Ron, Harry, who was like a son, and then Ginny. Molly has never really been the same again. It was years after the fall of Voldemort before I could see her laughing with uninhibited happiness. Our grandchildren, we have 13, helped in that respect. But she's alright now, I know, being with them all. She is truly happy after all of those years without four of her children.

"Hermione flooed about Edward, he's just gotten his owl yesterday. She said his face lit up like a firework." I say to Molly from my bed.

My children roll my eyes whenever I do this, speaking to her as though she's sitting next to me. I suppose I am old, and it probably frightens them when I talk to Molly. But I have to keep her up to date. I mean, she of course can _see_ what's going on, but she needs my opinion on the matter. I lie here at night and explain my motives of actions, as I did when she was next to me in this same bed. A bed she hasn't physically been in for 30 years, but still inhabits, though a bit closer to my heart nowadays, and her voice more in my mind and conscience.

How I miss that side of the bed being warm.

It feels as though it is now. In fact, I've never known my bed to be as warm as it is this moment. Perhaps it is the musings of an old man, worn from the years of living I have survived, dreaming of his love. Ah, how I love her. "I love you Molly, goodnight."

"**I love you Molly, goodnight."**

-Last words of Arthur Weasley


	4. Ginny and Harry

Disclaimer: I'm just borrowing them.

Title: Of Love and Graves

Summary: After the war…those who are left, are left to mourn. HG/RW, RL/NT, MW/AW, GW/HP

A/N: Last installment. I hope you enjoyed it, please review and ask your questions if you have them, though I hope I'm good enough that you can figure it out. I never know though, with my messed up mind. Thanks all, happy reading!

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**I would rather live and love where death is king than have eternal life where love is not **

**- **Robert G. Ingersoll

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Of Love and Dying 

Chapter 4 – Ginny and Harry

It is easier to die, then to be left behind. To fall away into an eternal sleep is simple, natural. But to be brutally cast out of heaven and into life is violent, hard.

Ginny Weasley kneels on the barren earth around her. It is stricken of trees, bushes, grass, and even the sky is dead, a pale gray lacking stars or a moon. The damp earth is not yet mud as a soft rain floats to the earth. Her finger tips slip from her robe and touch the dank ground beneath her.

She stays this way for what seems like hours but is no more than a minute. She is unmoving, unblinking, and even her breath is unnoticed by the space around her. When she can stand it no more, she inhales deeply, and as she allows her lungs to relax, a wind picks up her hair, flowing around her face. It is ignored.

Ginny's eyes move up to the horizon around her. The rain has suddenly stopped and she looks from the earth to the sky, blinking against the fear of stinging rain. The clouds slowly disappear, cast away, as if the wind came for this purpose alone. Rays of the sun hit the solid ground, an alien light becoming apparent. The bright is too intense, but she fights to remain stoic until she must blink away the tears that have formed.

"_Don't cry Gin, please…everything is going to be all right. Everything, everyone. I'll be seeing you, so there's no reason to cry, okay? Promise me?"_

Against her body's wishes, she smiles softly at the memory. It was sadly nice, that day. To be held in her childhood bedroom, with no distractions, no noise, and a war not to be talked about. He could hardly fit his lanky body on her bed, decorated in pale blue with pink flowers, out of place in the time they were in. A late night talk and the last sleep of peace they would have.

"_This is what it'll be like…"_

The smile fades off of Ginny's face and she closes her eyes tight. If she can't keep any other promise, she'll honor this one. No tears.

The sun is almost blinding now, but its warmth is welcoming. Ginny stands, the pads of two fingers speckled with wet dirt. She wipes it on her robe and sighs.

"_I'll be seeing you…"_

She turns suddenly, surprised at the whisper. She swallows hard and takes a deep breath. It was the wind…only the wind. But despite knowing this fact, she smiles and whispers back.

"Be seeing you too."

She does not see the dying Death Eater still alive, a wand in his hand.


End file.
